The Girl Next Door
by summerdaze87
Summary: As a child, Don had a neighbor- a little girl he called "pest." She moved away when she was 13 and, over the next 11 years, Don gradually forgot about his sister's best friend... until he sees her in a coffee shop one day. Don/OC, DL, maybe others...
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **This has been swarming through my head for a couple of weeks now. I must have started it a thousand times in the past two weeks, but it never worked out the way I wanted it, too. I like the way this chapter came out, though, and I hope you guys do, too. I will update again, I just don't know when- we're in the process of getting ready to move in a couple of weeks, and I've moved enough in my life to know how crazy life can get during that time. Enjoy! -Jess

**Disclaimer:** I don't own CSI:NY or any characters you might recognize... Casey, on the other hand, is mine.

**Chapter One**

_Twenty Years Ago..._

"Damn you, Nick Campbell!" Even upstairs in her bedroom with every one of her half a dozen music boxes going, four-year-old Casey could hear her parents' latest fight. It seemed to her that's all they did anymore; she couldn't remember a time when they'd been a happy, loving family like the Flacks next door. She loved to go over to her best friend Samantha Flack's house. Sam's mommy and daddy loved each other- and they loved Sam and her brothers, Don and Tommy. Casey was pretty sure her mommy and daddy wished she'd never been born- they screamed it at the top of their lungs just about every time they fought. She was a mistake- and she'd known it for as long as she could remember.

With a sigh, she pushed back a lock of hair that was more orange than red and lifted the window open. She knew she wasn't supposed to go outside after dark because it wasn't safe- and she wasn't supposed to climb trees because her mommy said it wasn't lady-like, whatever that meant- but she was tired and just wanted to go to sleep. W hen she heard another plate break against a wall downstairs, she knew getting any sleep in her own bed that night was out of the picture.

More often than not lately, she crept over to Sam's house anyway to sleep at night. She thought that maybe her uncle Donald- Sam's dad wasn't really Casey's uncle but he'd told her a while ago that she could call him that- and maybe even her aunt Maggie, Sam's mom, knew that she'd crawl in through the bedroom window Sam had started leaving open for her a few months earlier and cry herself to sleep in Sam's bed, but they didn't say anything about it. Most days, she slipped back out the window when the sun came up, before Aunt Maggie knocked on Sam's door- but one day, she'd slept in and she was sure Maggie had seen her climbing back through her own window.

She climbed out the window and pulled it most of the way down, the same as she'd been doing for months now, and made her way carefully across the tree to Sam's bedroom window, only to find that it was closed. Sam must have forgotten to open it before she went to bed. Casey didn't want to go home and listen to her parents fighting, so she crept over another couple of branches until she was outside Don's bedroom and noticed that, thankfully, he'd left his window open- Casey knew Don almost never closed his window at night, and she'd always been very careful to be be extremely quiet as she made her way across the tree, never wanting to wake him up.

She silently crawled over the window sill and placed her sock-clad feet on Don's carpeted floor. She'd sneak across the room and down the hall to Sam's, quiet as a mouse, and Don would never know she'd been in there.

From his bed, eight-year-old Don Flack watched Casey tip-toe across his floor, wondering what the heck she was up to. Casey had made it her mission in life, it seemed, to make him absolutely miserable. She followed him everywhere, like a lost little puppy, and she'd always look up at him with those big brown eyes that he couldn't say no to- and she knew it, too. He knew she'd heard his brother Tommy talking the other day with his friend Joey about how Joey's sister had put their mom's make-up on him while he'd been asleep; he'd been terrified ever since he'd caught the devilish gleam in Casey's eyes that day that she was going to try and pull something like that on him.

But Casey didn't go anywhere near his bed; instead, she peeked at him one more time to make sure he was asleep- he was grateful he'd been smart enough to keep his eyes mostly closed as he watched her- and reached for his doorknob. He probably should have let her just sneak out, he was sure, but he was too curious now to go back to sleep without knowing what had brought her there- besides that, he knew he had to have a serious talk with her about climbing the big oak between their houses, especially when it was so dark outside and she couldn't see. She could have fallen and hurt herself, he thought to himself with a weary sigh.

"What are you doing, pest?" He could tell his question startled her- she jerked her hand away from the doorknob as though she'd been burned and spun on her heel to look at him- but his softly spoken question hadn't scared her.

Casey crossed her arms defiantly across her chest and marched across the room, wishing she hadn't woken the oldest Flack sibling up because she knew she'd have to explain what she was doing there, and she didn't want to have to do that. She gave him her very best glare, and Don bit back a grin- now was not the time to pick on her.

"I asked you a question, Casey," he said as he sat up and looked down at her. He gave her the same you-better-answer-my-question-now look his dad gave him and his brother and sister whenever they did something wrong- his mom called it his dad's cop-look. He and Tommy and Sam always caved when their dad looked at them like that- and Tommy and Sam always caved when Don gave them the look, too- but Casey wasn't the least bit intimidated by him. He supposed he shouldn't be terribly surprised by that rather irritating fact, since Casey seemed to be pretty much fearless, but it annoyed him nevertheless.

The four-year-old ended the staring contest by bowing her head and pretending to find great interest in his carpet as she replied, "Sam forgotted to open her window 'fore she went to sleep."

Don narrowed his eyes at the statement- clearly, sneaking into Sam's bedroom at night was a regular occurrence. How had he missed that? "So you climbed though mine instead," Don said as he brushed a hand through his dark brown hair. "You shouldn't climb that tree at night, you know, pest," he told her in a stern voice before he stood and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. It surprised him when he realized she was trembling- and it wasn't cold, so he knew that couldn't be the reason. "Why do you climb into Sam's room?"

Casey slowly raised her head and met his gaze- what he saw there broke his eight-year-old heart. The little girl in front of him might be the biggest pain he'd ever met, but no little girl should look so lost and sad. "Mommy and Daddy are fighting 'bout the biggest mistake they ever made again," she told him quietly, and he knew she was quoting them.

He felt his stomach tie itself in knots and knew the answer even as he asked, "What's that?" He hoped he was wrong. His mom and dad fought sometimes, but he'd never once heard them say that any of their kids were mistakes, and he knew neither one of them ever would.

"Me," Casey replied sadly as she slipped out from under his arm and moved quickly across his bedroom floor to his door. He caught up with her a second later, just as she was pulling it open, and wrapped his arms around her in a hug.

"You're not a mistake, Casey- don't ever let anyone tell you different." And with that, he walked her the few steps down the hall to his little sister's room- the room that, from that moment on, he would always think of as being shared by his _two_ little sisters.

From that night on, for the next nine years, on the rare occasion that Sam forgot to open her bedroom window before she fell asleep, Casey would slip in through Don's instead, smile at him when he popped his eyes open to look at her, and creep across his room and out his door, down the hall to Sam's room. Every now and then, he'd whisper to her as she walked out his door, just before she pulled it shut, and tell her she wasn't a mistake- and never to let anyone tell her different.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Well, I couldn't get it out of my head, so I figured I'd type it up and give myself a chance at getting a decent night's sleep tonight. So, here you go- chapter two. Seriously, that's gotta be a record for me. Don't get used to it, though- really, this never happens. Enjoy! -Jess

**Disclaimer: **Still don't own it.

**Chapter Two**

_Eleven Years Ago..._

He'd been watching her now for about ten minutes. She was just sitting on the old tire swing his dad had hung off that tree seven or eight years ago, staring up at his sister's bedroom window. He knew she was going to miss Sam- Casey and Sam had been inseparable just about their entire lives, at least up until now. They were best friends. More than that, Don figured, they were the sisters the other had never had. For that matter, the Flacks were pretty much the family that Casey had never had.

He supposed he should be thankful on Casey's behalf that her constantly arguing parents had finally called their marriage quits, but as his sapphire gaze shifted from Casey's slumped form to the window she was staring at so intently, he realized that what he truly felt was anger- anger and sadness and helplessness because he knew that, by ending her marriage to Nick Campbell and taking Casey with her, the only thing Viola Campbell was doing was taking her daughter away from the only real family she'd ever known- and there wasn't a damn thing that seventeen-year-old Don could do about it.

From the moment he'd met her- she couldn't have been more than eighteen-months-old, he'd deemed her a pest. The first time he'd caught her sneaking through his bedroom window, when his younger sister had forgotten one night to leave her own open for Casey, he'd accepted that he actually had three younger siblings- Tommy, Sam, and Casey. He'd watched as his father taught her and Sam how to ride a bike; had carried Casey out of the middle of the street and bandaged her scrapes and cuts after a particularly nasty fall. He'd held her hand on the ride to the hospital when she'd fallen out of the same tree she'd been climbing across every night for years- in broad daylight nonetheless- and broken her arm. He'd picked on her and teased her, had held her when she'd cried, tickled her into tears- all of the same things he'd done with Sam.

As he watched Casey now, he realized that he was losing a sister, just as surely as if Sam was being taken from him. And he hated it.

She didn't hear him sneak up on her, but then she figured that shouldn't surprise her too much- it was Don Flack, after all. "We're gonna miss ya, pest," he mumbled as he slumped against the trunk of the tree. He wasn't good at good-byes, or with crying girls- and he really sucked when it came to knowing what to do when he had to deal with both.

Casey slowly turned her head to look at him. She had to swallow past the lump of emotion clogging her throat twice before she could get out, "I'm gonna miss you guys, too, Donnie." It earned her a small smile.

Very few people got away with calling him Donnie. At first, he'd fought her on it, telling her over and over again that his name was Don- not Donnie. There was a very big difference, thank you. She hadn't listened. She'd smiled, or stuck her tongue out at him depending on her mood, and chanted, "Donnie, Donnie, Donnie," until he'd rolled his eyes and given up for the day. Eventually, he'd quit arguing with her about it- the only people who called him Donnie were his family and he certainly had to admit that Casey was close enough.

Still, it wasn't his favorite nickname.

"Cassandra Amelia Campbell, get over here now!" Viola bellowed from in front of the limo that had arrived to take her and Casey to her parents' mansion. Viola had been born into money, rebelled and married a cop against her father's wishes, and given birth to a daughter even she wasn't sure if she'd ever loved. And when she'd finally given in and given up on her marriage, all she'd had to do was pick up the phone and call her father, tell him how wrong she'd been, how he'd been right and she'd been too stubborn to see it, and how sorry she was- and could she please come home? Her father had sent a limo to pick his daughter and granddaughter- whom, at thirteen-years-old, he'd never even met- up.

If the whole situation hadn't made Don- and just about everyone he cared about- so freaking miserable, he probably would have found it very funny. Instead, as Casey rose slowly from the tire swing and began to walk as though she were going to her death, he reached out and pulled her into a hug. He wasn't really sure what to say, so he muttered the first words that came to mind- words he'd spoken to her a hundred times, words he'd always hated that she had to hear, words that he was sadly so sure she'd need to hear a hundred times more in the near future if her grandparents were anything like their daughter.

"You're not a mistake, Case. Don't ever let anyone tell you different."

For years to come, whenever Casey felt lonely, whenever she started to think that maybe she should never have been born, she'd hear her best friend's big brother's voice in her head, repeating those words over and over until she believed them. Every fight with her mother, or her step-sister, or her step-father, would lead to replaying those words in her mind. Every time she broke up with a boyfriend, she'd cry into a pillow and whisper them to herself, wishing Donnie was there to wrap her in a hug and whisper them to her instead.

And when she looked back on her childhood, she'd say that she didn't know what she would have done without the Flack family next door- without her uncle Donald and aunt Maggie, without Sam, without Tommy, and without Donnie- and she'd say that she wouldn't be the strong, confident young woman she was- most of the time- without Donnie Flack and those words.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **I really didn't expect to update again so soon- don't get me wrong, I'm really glad that I'm able to, that the story is flowing so well for me, but it's more than a little surprising. Anyway, here's the next chapter- I promise, the next one will be a Don/Casey reunion. Enjoy! -Jess

**Disclaimer: **Nope, still not mine.

**Chapter Three**

_Two Years Ago..._

It was true, Casey Campbell and her step-sister, Devon Hartley, hadn't ever gotten along. In fact, they pretty much despised one another and interacted only when absolutely forced- and their parents had stopped trying to get them to even be civil to one another more than five years earlier. For the first time in the decade that her mother and James Hartley had been married, though, Casey now found herself wishing that she and Devon got along just a little- because then, when Casey crept down the spiral staircase of her mother and step-father's home and overheard her step-sister's new boyfriend ask about Devon's family- did she have any siblings?- maybe Devon would have said, "Yes," instead of giving him that dazzling smile and saying, "No." And maybe, just maybe, for the first time in nine years, Casey could have found herself standing in front of Donnie Flack.

Sure, she could have continued down the stairs and announced her presence, reached out and wrapped Don in a hug- but she'd learned years earlier that she definitely did not want Devon for an enemy. Her step-sister could easily put both of Cinderella's to shame when she wanted to, and Casey had seen that particular side of Devon too many times to risk it again. So, she hung back, silently hoping and praying that Don would look up and notice her.

He didn't- he just helped Devon with her jacket, ever the gentleman his mother raised him to be, and ushered her out of the mansion.

With a weary sigh, Casey made her way down the rest of the stairs, grabbed her own jacket, and left the mansion. She'd promised her friends she'd meet them at their favorite coffee shop for a night out- they'd all been so busy lately with school and work that they hadn't seen much of one another lately.

Two weeks later, when Devon came home ranting one evening about what an ass Don Flack, Jr., was and how he'd made a huge mistake by dumping her- who did he think he was, anyway?- Casey couldn't help the grin that broke out on her face. A guy like Don deserved better than Devon, that was for sure.

The next night, when she and the rest of her friends met back up at the coffee shop, she met and befriended Adam Ross- her former roommate's brother. Adam, it turned out, was a lot like her- he'd had a terrible childhood and still carried with him many of the insecurities born from verbal and physical beatings. They talked for hours- long past when all of the rest of their friends left and even after closing- and Casey found the man who would become her best friend in the CSI. And though he mentioned, more than once over the course of the next two years, a detective he worked with named Don, it never occurred to Casey that, in a city with more than eight million people, his Don and her Don might just be one and the same.

Nevertheless, if Adam hadn't spotted her sitting at a table in that very same coffee shop one day two years later, she never would have looked up and seen Don Flack standing with him.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Well, now that you all have the background story, it's time for the good stuff. Here's chapter four. I hope you all enjoy it. -Jess

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**Chapter Four**

_Present Time..._

It was a Saturday and, like most Saturday mornings, twenty-four-year-old Casey Campbell had claimed a table in the back of her favorite little coffee shop, Pete's. She had a copy of the day's paper spread out before her, her i-Pod blaring in her ears, and her favorite iced coffee- the day was off to a great start.

Across the café, the door opened and the a set of wind chimes tinkled above a group of patrons, but Casey was too into Pat Benatar's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot," to notice them. Her friends, especially her best friend Adam, liked to pick on her for what he called her weird taste in music- the genre she listened to tended to change with her mood. Today, it seemed, she was in the mood for some '80's music.

Don Flack and Danny Messer surveyed the little coffee shop Adam Ross had brought them to. The trio were supposed to be bringing back coffee to the lab for the rest of the team- they could all certainly use the caffeine, seeing as most of them hadn't slept the night before, except for maybe an hour or so on the sofa in the break room. As tired as they were, it amazed Danny and Don when Adam suddenly started grinning and shaking his head.

"Got something you wanna share with the class there, Ross?" Don questioned, his gaze following Adam's- and landing on a young woman with bright auburn hair. Even from their place somewhere in the middle of the line in front of the counter across the room, he could see the i-Pod and the earphones and wondered if the girl was like Adam and was practically glued to the device.

"Let's get the drinks first, then you can introduce us to your friend, Adam," Danny said, knowing that his girlfriend, Lindsay Monroe, and Stella Bonasera would torture them all in some pretty creative ways if they didn't get the coffee and bring it back soon. "And it better be quick- I ain't looking to piss Montana and Stella off today," he added with a pointed look, though he was admittedly more than a little curious as to how Adam knew the woman who seemed to be off in her own little world with her music, her coffee, and her newspaper.

Five minutes later, each with a tray of drinks in hand, they sauntered over to the table. Casey caught their movement out of the corner of her eye and looked up. The first person she noticed was Adam, and she stood and reached across the table to hug him, mindful of the beverages- most of them exceedingly hot- he carried. And when she at last turned to his friends and started to pull the earphones from her ears, she burst out laughing as the next song came on- Bonnie Tyler's "Holding Out for a Hero."

Standing in front of her, looking ike he might be trying to figure out where he knew her from but just couldn't quite put his finger on it, was her very own hero- Donnie Flack. "Case, Detectives Danny Messer and Don Flack," Adam told her, though she wasn't looking at him but at Flack- lots of women looked at Flack, though, so Adam wouldn't have been too surprised if he'd caught her attention if it weren't for the way she was looking at him- it was like she knew him, but Adam couldn't remember his best friend ever mentioning knowing Flack. It took him a half second more to realize that, though she'd never said his last name, Casey had indeed mentioned Don- several times, as a matter of fact, in the course of their two-year friendship.

"Holy cow," Adam said with a low whistle, earning himself a quick glance from Casey. That look told him everything he needed to know, too- like that he was right and Don was her Donnie, the guy who'd practically been her big brother growing up- except that you couldn't have a crush on your big brother, and Casey had very definitely harbored a crush for Don. A quick peek at Don told him that the detective hadn't yet placed her, which didn't surprise Adam, since he knew for a fact that the last time Don had seen Casey, she'd barely been a teenager.

He bit back a smile as Casey threw her arms around Don's neck, causing both Don and Danny's eyebrows to shoot up in surprise. And when he heard her say, "Hey'ya, Donnie," and saw Don's eyes widen until it looked like they might actually pop right out of his head, it was all he could do to keep from laughing.

The moment realization hit Don, he pushed Casey- a little bit more harshly than he meant to, he was so caught off-guard- far enough away from him that he could look into her laughing brown eyes. He didn't let go of her, though, a fact which both Danny and Adam cataloged away in their minds for later- Don, on the other hand, was past noticing that he was still holding onto her arms. Instead, he was focused on taking in every inch of her face, looking for verification that it was really her.

He found it, and pretty easily, too. The truth was there in those doe-like eyes, the ones she'd turned on him so many times before in order to get her way. It was in the small bump on her nose- she'd broken it playing baseball with him and Tommy when she was six- and in the smirk on her lips. Her hair, orange when he first met her and later a tad bit redder, though not much, was more auburn now- but he knew he'd still say she'd make a perfect carrot, just to tick her off.

And with a smirk of his own, Don pulled her back to him and crushed her in a bear-hug. "Casey Campbell," he laughed in disbelief. "It's good to see you again, pest," added, shaking his head in disbelief. His sister was going to go berserk when he told her about this- for that matter, so were his dad and brother

Danny turned his attention to Adam for an explanation- Don was still too stunned to even remember that Adam and Danny were both standing next to him- and it seemed Adam very definitely knew what was going on. Adam tried to curb his laughter as he answered Danny's unspoken question- but it was proving a little difficult. "They grew up next door to each other." He rushed his words, trying to get the whole explanation out before his laughter took over again. If only Don would stop looking at Casey like she'd grown a second head, he might stand a chance.

A little surprised, Danny merely nodded his head and asked, "And you know her how?"

It was Casey who answered the question, looking over at Adam and giving him a lop-sided grin. "Adam's been my best friend for about two years now. His sister was my roommate; she introduced us."

That got both Don and Danny's attention and had Adam dipping his head to avoid looking the detectives in the eye. "You've got a sister, Ross?" Danny asked, wondering how that had never once come up in a conversation. Sure, he and Adam weren't exactly great friends or anything, but he'd never once heard the slightest mention of Adam having any siblings. Truth be told, he didn't know a whole heck of a lot about the guy.

"Half-sister," Adam mumbled, "Rachael." He loved his sister, he really did, but he didn't talk about her- or anyone in his family- a whole lot. He hadn't even met his older-by-five-months half-sister until he was sixteen. She'd lived with her mom- she'd never even met their father, the man who seemed to have lived for the sole purpose of torturing his son.

Don's knowing gaze flickered between Adam and Casey. When Casey had first said they were best friends, he'd wondered what the two of them could possibly have in common. He didn't know much about Adam, admittedly, but he did know that the other man hadn't had an easy childhood at all- he suspected Adam had probably been abused pretty severely, but he'd never asked. Now, looking at the pair, he could see how that would have formed the beginnings of a bond between them. And, as he thought back to other conversations and run-ins with Adam, he realized that he and Casey were actually a lot alike- or, at least, Adam was a lot like the Casey he'd known as a kid.

Danny cleared his throat and announced, "I hate to break up this little reunion, but we gotta get back to the lab." Both of his colleagues nodded and Casey hugged them all good-bye- which caught Danny by surprise, but he returned the hug with a smile, knowing he was going to be seeing more of the redhead in the future. Don passed her his card and Casey jotted her phone number down on a piece of paper for him, each with the promise that they would call soon and get together to catch up.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews! You guys are all awesome. Hope you enjoy this chapter! -Jess

**Disclaimer: **Nope, still don't own it.

**Chapter Five**

_Later That Day..._

It had been a long and grueling day- of course, being a cop meant Flack's days could almost always be described the same way- but through it all, his brief encounter with Casey kept running through his mind- along with about a thousand memories from the years she'd practically been another little sister to him. Though he'd only spent a few minutes with her that afternoon, it had been easy to see the changes in her- not just the physical ones, but she'd seemed... different. The way she held herself, for one thing- she was more confident than she had been as a kid. She'd hugged him right off- that wasn't something the Casey he'd know would have done, even if she had been glad to see him. That Casey would have hung back, maybe given him a shy smile, and waited for him to make the first move, waited for a sign that he was just as happy to see her. And the fact that she'd hugged Danny? Casey never would have done that before- the man was an absolute stranger to her. It wouldn't have mattered that he knew Danny, or that Adam knew him- Adam could have told her a hundred stories about Danny, made it so that she felt like she knew the man when she met him, and she still wouldn't have done something like that.

He was a cop, though- and a damned good one at that- and was trained to notice the things that weren't so close to the surface. Had Casey changed? Definitely. But there were still lingering traces of the little girl she'd been eleven years before- the shadows in her eyes that told of pain she tried to hide, the first moment she'd realized it was him and the fear that had flitted across her features. He knew her well enough, he thought, even after so many years, to know that it hadn't been him she'd been afraid of. If he knew anything at all about Casey, it was that the only thing fearless little Casey was afraid was rejection. And the moment after that fear had flashed in her eyes, only to be replaced with genuine happiness at seeing him again, he'd felt his chest swell with pride for her- she'd pushed her fear aside. She may not have gotten past it- he doubted that she ever truly would, though he hated to think that- but she was brave enough now that it didn't hold her back the way it had in the past.

He didn't realize how wrapped up in his own thoughts he'd become until he heard Danny snickering behind his back. Flack's dark head popped up and he realized that, though his gaze had been directed at the mug he'd been filling with coffee, he hadn't been paying any attention to what he was doing- as evidenced by the fact that the dark liquid was dripping from the counter and forming a puddle at his feet. "Damn it!" he swore, glaring first at the mess and then at Danny, who'd plopped himself into a chair at the break room's table with a smirk. "Shut it, Messer," he growled and his eyes held an unspoken warning.

Danny shook his head and fought the urge to laugh outright at the look on his friend's face. "Somethin' on you're mind, Flack? Or maybe _someone_?" he asked, the hint of a smile curling his lips, despite the look Flack was giving him.

From behind Danny, in the doorway, Adam cleared his throat. He'd entered the room- or, rather paused just short of actually stepping across the threshold- mere seconds after Danny. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out exactly what- or as Danny had so accurately pointed out, who- was on Flack's mind. And when both detectives turned their heads to face him- with Flack looking like he wanted to spend a couple of hours in an interrogation room with him, grilling him about everything he knew about Casey- he wondered briefly if he should have just kept silent and walked away. But he wasn't afraid of Don Flack- well, he wasn't terrified of the man, at least- and he knew the other man was just curious about his old friend.

"She talks about you a lot," he said, his words as quickly spoken as ever. He had a habit of talking fast anytime he was nervous or uncomfortable- and he found, much to his consternation, that he was both around Flack and Danny more often than not.

Flack's eyebrows shot up at Adam's statement, and he wondered how it could possibly be that Casey had talked about him, but Adam had never thought to get them in the same room together before- or even mentioned knowing Casey, for that matter.

The look on his face must have asked the question for him because Adam hurried to add, "She never said your last name- or, at least, if she did, I didn't catch it. And she always called you Donnie, never just Don- I never once even thought that you might be the same guy."

"Pull up a chair, Ross," Flack instructed, waving an arm in the direction of the one beside Danny. "It's been a long time since I've seen Casey; she's changed a lot. You two seem to be pretty close, maybe you could answer a couple of questions for me."

Adam nodded and said, "I'll tell you whatever you want to know about her, Flack, as long as I'm sure it's something Casey wouldn't mind you knowing."

At that statement, Flack offered a small smile- unspoken acknowledgment that Casey had found herself a good friend. "Good enough for me," he said before continuing on. "She's a lot more confident than she used to be- that's a good thing. Makes me think that maybe her grandparents weren't as horrible as I figured they'd be."

Adam didn't bother to hide his grimace at the mention of his best friend's grandparents. He'd only met them once, but those two hours he'd spent in their presence had been more than enough to last him a lifetime. "I don't think so," he admitted. "They treat her like dirt anytime they see her- and she's told me a little bit about when she lived with them. As cruel as they are now, they were worse when she was living under their roof," he told Flack, recalling some of the things Casey had told him. "She doesn't like to talk about it, so I don't really know very much- but I can fill in the blanks."

Flack's eyes narrowed at the explanation. "How bad?" he demanded, though he didn't raise his voice.

Adam gulped and wondered if Flack might actually fly off the handle. He'd heard from Casey how over-protective of her and Sam he'd been as a kid, had seen it first-hand with Sam on a couple of occasions. He doubted that Flack's desire to protect Casey could have gone away, especially given the way he was acting now. "You know how bad it was before, right? Of course you do; you lived next-door to her," he said, mostly to himself. "It was... about like that, except worse- way worse. Her dad, he'd hit her sometimes- with her grandfather, it was pretty much daily. And her grandmother was almost worse, with her constant criticism. Casey wished she'd never been born. They- her grandparents and her mother- told her how much better off they'd all be without her in their lives. They told her... they told her they wished she was dead." And then, in a voice Flack and Danny both had to strain to hear, "She believed them."

Flack had felt his blood pressure steadily rising as Adam spoke- and by the time he'd reached what Flack and Danny had both thought was the end, when he'd said that her grandparents- her grandparents and her own mother, for crying out loud!- had told Casey they'd wished was dead, he'd been seeing red. And when Adam had whispered that she'd actually believed them, he knew that if he looked in a mirror at that moment, he would see that he'd turned as white as the lab coat Adam was wearing.

One look at Flack's face, and Adam knew the other man had not only heard his softly-spoken admission, he'd read between the lines and understood what it truly meant. Danny's face told him the same thing and, though he could see the anger written across Danny's features that anyone could push a teenager into believing she was so worthless that she should just die, mostly what he saw was concern for his friend- for how Flack was taking the news.

"After she got out of the hospital, she moved in with a friend- Megan Wheeler. She was seventeen; Meg was eighteen. Her parents were really wealthy, had given her condo for her birthday. And they didn't care if she had a roommate- Casey's family certainly didn't care that she'd moved out. She stayed with Meg until college, then she went to NYU, where she was roommates with Rachael." He didn't remind them that Rachael was his sister; he didn't want to answer any questions about his own past right then. "I met her their last year, a few weeks before they graduated. We hit it off, and we've been friends ever since." He noted with a sigh that the look in Flack's eyes- like he wanted five minutes alone with Casey's grandparents and her mother- hadn't lessened any, and added, "Meg, Rae, and Casey- they're like sisters. They look out for each other. They all have their own horror stories to tell about their childhoods- some are worse than others- and it... it brought them together. They look out for each other- they have ever since they became friends, and they will until the day they die. It's not great, but at least for the past seven years, Casey's had a family who'd move Heaven and Earth for her- and so have I." He wasn't sure what prompted him to add the last bit, about himself- he'd just gotten carried away, he supposed.

Flack nodded and stood up. He surprised Adam by clapping him on the shoulder and saying, "I owe you- and them- for that, then."

He was just about out the door, on his way to go call Casey and find out where he could meet her to talk, when Adam turned and called out, "Hey, Flack." Only when Flack turned around and looked at him did Adam continue. "You know how you said she's more confident than you remember?" At Flack's nod, he went on with a smile. "She says that's thanks to you- thanks to what you told her when she was a kid." He watched as recognition flashed in Flack's eyes before the detective gave a small nod and headed out the door.

"What'd he tell her?" Danny was curious to know, and Adam saw no harm in answering.

"He told her she wasn't a mistake, and not to ever let anyone make her think she was." When Danny raised an eyebrow, Adam added, "Well, she did let them make her think she was a mistake- as you heard- but, when she was in the hospital, she told me that she'd lay in bed and repeat those words to herself over and over again until, one day, she believed them. Even now, when they try they're hardest, her grandparents and her mother- they can't make her think that way again." Adam's gaze fell to the floor for a moment before lifted his head and met Danny's gaze, adding in a hushed tone, "He saved her life, Danny, whether he ever knows it or not- Casey's alive today because of him."

Danny's eyes went thoughtfully to the doorway Flack had stepped through only moments before and wondered what that revelation might do to his friend if he ever found out.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Well, I didn't actually think that I'd be updating this again so soon with everything that's going on, but it seems like this one is just pouring out of me- at least for now. I'm a little hesitant to even hope that it'll continue to do so, but I'm loving the fact that I can't seem to get through the day without adding to this story (I got about half of this chapter done yesterday). Thanks so much for the reviews- you guys are absolutely awesome. I'm sure I don't have to tell you all how much they make my day, since you probably know exactly what I'm talking about and how it feels to read reviews on your own stories. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you seem to have enjoyed the others. -Jess

**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI:NY or anyone you might recognize- Casey, on the other hand, is the product of my own over-active imagination.

_This is stupid_, Casey thought to herself with a sigh. She'd been sitting curled up in one corner of her sofa, her gaze glued to the door of her apartment, since she'd gotten off the phone with Don. Sure, he hadn't said what exactly he wanted to talk to her about at- she flicked her gaze to the digital clock by the television set- ten o'clock at night, but she could guess. The tone of his voice had told her he was beyond mad- he was positively furious. And if he wanted to talk to her about that... well, it could only mean that he'd cornered Adam and gotten him to spill something. Actually, he wouldn't have even had to corner Adam- her best friend would likely offer up at least some of what he knew about her childhood and teenage years because, quite honestly, he was scared of Don. And, having grown up next door to the guy and seen first-hand how intimidating he could be, she understood that- it was hard for people like them- like her and Adam, who'd been abused in various and awful ways for years- not to be afraid of people like Don, at least to some degree. All it took was one look at Donald James Flack, Jr., to know that he was a man used to getting what he wanted.

Did that mean Casey was scared of him? A little, yeah. She wasn't afraid that he'd hurt her- never that- but she'd seen what he was capable of when he was pushed too far. One day after school, Don had strolled into her house to find her- he'd been worried because she and Sam had made plans for the afternoon, but Casey hadn't shown up and Sam had begged him to check on her and make sure she was okay- and watched as her father had slapped her so hard she'd felt like her head would spin right off her shoulders. Don had pushed her behind him, right out the front door, and launched himself at her father. It had terrified her that Don was capable of such violence- she'd been glad he'd shown up, and surprisingly thrilled that he was willing to actually fight for her, but seeing him like that... It wasn't something she ever wanted to witness again.

And she knew, once he arrived, he'd start in with his questions- and he wouldn't let up until he had the answers. If he'd been furious twenty minutes before on the phone, she didn't want to see what he'd be like once he heard what she'd been through. She wasn't too thrilled about the idea of reopening those old wounds, either- there were lots of things she knew she was still dealing with, more still that she never wanted to think about again but that were always there with her anyway. But most of all, she was dreading seeing the look on Don's face when she told him what she'd done, what she'd tried to do.

Casey was abruptly brought back to the here and now by Don's knocks. He wasn't pounding on the door or even beating it down- some people might think that he'd cooled off some, that he was no longer as angry as he had been... and some people, those who really knew him, would realize that, sometimes, the quieter he was- the more furious he was. And Casey definitely knew him well enough to recognize the quietly seething fury behind those almost too gentle knocks at her door and his strained, "Open the door, Campbell."

Of course, the fact that he'd called her by her last name was a big hint, too. He'd rarely done that, even when they'd been kids- and, even then, only when he'd been beyond pissed, as Sam would say. Regardless, she knew better than to deny the order- if she did, he'd just bust the door down. He was more than capable of it- she'd seen it more than once.

Much to her own horror, no matter how badly she didn't want to be afraid of him, Casey realized that she was shaking with fear- it had been years since she'd faced an angry Don Flack. After that incident with her father, she'd run across the lawn to the Flack home and raced into Sam's bedroom. She'd curled up in a corner and refused to come out until the tears had stopped falling- and it had taken a good hour to calm herself down after what she'd seen.

She slowly pulled the door open, though she refused to meet Don's gaze as she stepped aside and allowed him entry to her home, her sanctuary. Without saying a word, Don stepped inside and pushed the door shut behind him. He reached out to take Casey's arm and guide her to the sofa- and was stunned when she flinched at his touch. His eyes widened as he looked down at her. No longer was she the confident young woman he'd seen that morning; this was the Casey of the past, the girl who could best be described as a frightened mouse. It occurred to him then that, though he hadn't given any direct indication of what he wanted to talk to her about, she knew- she'd probably been sitting, worrying over it since they'd hung up.

For the past half hour, she'd been reliving her own personal hell. And it was his fault- he hated that. More than that, he hated that he knew he was going to push her even further into it because he needed to know what had driven her to try to end her own life. He thought back to that afternoon, to the case he'd been working- for a time, the prime suspects had been three brothers, the possible motive being that they'd wanted revenge on the monsters who'd hurt their sister. He thought of the conversation he'd had with Danny and with Mac Taylor- if the girl had been his sister, or Danny's sister, or Mac's sister... any one of them would have killed the guy for laying a hand on her. And Don knew that's what he was feeling now- he wanted to kill whatever SOB had dared to lay a hand on Casey. He'd always been protective of her, the same as he had of Sam. He'd gone head-to-head with her father, fist-to-fist. There had been moments he'd seriously thought himself capable of killing Nick Campbell for some of the things he'd done to Casey.

He watched as Casey moved to the couch, pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them to her. She looked so much like she had the last time he'd seen her- scared, lost, and like she was all alone in the world. She wasn't- not as long as he was there, or Sam, or Tommy. They'd all take care of her- except that they hadn't been there for eleven years. And though she'd found a new family, according to Adam, the past seven years with them couldn't erase everything she'd been through before.

It tore him apart inside to see her like that, to know that he was at least partially responsible- she wouldn't be sitting in her apartment letting past nightmares eat away at her if he hadn't called, if he hadn't demanded that they talk. It hit him then that, as much as he'd like to think he'd protected her in the past, all he'd done today was hurt her. He'd taken her back to days she'd love nothing more than to forget, he was sure, though he was just as certain she'd never be able to remove them from her mind. Every slap, every punch, every angry word was forever burned into her memory. For the first time all day, he thought about walking away- walking back out her door and leaving her alone before he did any more damage. If he wasn't there to tear open old scares, maybe she'd go back to being the woman he'd met that morning.

He couldn't do it, though- whether it was the right thing or not. And he wasn't even sure it was the right thing to do. It didn't matter, right or wrong, he couldn't walk away from her and he knew it. Instead, he walked slowly, cautiously, over to the coffee table in front of the sofa and sat down on it. He wanted to reach out and wrap her in his arms, tell her everything would be okay- he'd done it a thousand times growing up. He didn't, however, want to see her flinch away from him again. Was she really afraid of him? He didn't want to think that she could be, but was forced to admit that it was more than possible, given her reaction.

He'd thought up a hundred questions to ask her on his drive over- most of which he knew he couldn't ask her now, not with the state she was in. In fact, as he raked his gaze over her, he wondered if she'd ever be ready for him to ask them, if she'd ever be able to go back to those days in her mind, move past the pain the memories brought, and answer his questions without shutting down on him. He needed to know two things, though- he could no more stop himself from asking than he could stop his heart from beating or his lungs from drawing air. In a soft voice- he didn't want to spook her any more than she clearly already was- he asked, "Why are you afraid of me?"

And he was sure she was, as much as it killed him to think that. This was Casey- Casey, who even as a child, had seemed so fearless. He didn't even think she was afraid of her father- she'd stood up to him, never once just standing there and taking anything from him. Which, Don knew, had usually only pissed her old man off that much more and made things worse for her. But here she was, cowering in fear- of him. And it broke his heart.

For a long moment, he wondered if she was going to answer or if she'd retreated so far into herself that maybe she hadn't even heard him. He'd never seen her like this before and, truth be told, it was actually scaring him to think that maybe he'd pushed her over the edge of some unknown cliff. When she finally spoke, her words were halted and broken, but she raised her head and met his gaze with her own, and Don released a long breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"I... I'm not... scared. Not... not of... of you," she said in a voice barely more than a whisper. "I'm... I know you're angry... and that- that's what.... what scares me. Your anger."

But not him. It wasn't much better, but Don would take it- he really didn't want her to be afraid of him. He knew that what she'd just admitted was only a step or two below that, though, and it didn't do much to ease the pain he felt at having her fear him- or his temper. With a sigh, he rubbed a hand over his face and forced himself to take several deep, calming breaths. "I'm not angry with you, pest," he told her, though he was almost certain she knew that. Casey bobbed her head once, but the fear in her eyes didn't go away. He wasn't a mind reader, not by any stretch of the word, but he was good at reading people- and he'd mastered reading Casey years ago. He could practically see her every thought reflected in her eyes, and he knew instinctively what she was afraid of- what she was remembering. She'd only ever seen him lose control once- and he hated himself for letting her see it, though he couldn't bring himself to be sorry that he'd broken her father's nose, among other things, that day. Not after what the man had done to her.

"Case... Adam told me... he..." He couldn't say it. He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud, to put into words that Casey Campbell had tried to kill herself. He couldn't because, if he did, he'd have to think about what might have happened if she'd succeeded. Sure, he hadn't really thought about her over the years, except maybe a memory here and there, and he certainly hadn't ever imagined seeing her again, but there was something about even the idea of Casey being gone forever that had a fist gripping his heart with terror, had his heartbeat speeding up, his palms sweating.

At his quiet admission, Casey's eyes glazed over with tears she refused to shed. She would not let herself cry in front of Don- in front of anyone. It had always been one of her rules. She was a wallflower, a girl who'd hated having the spotlight directed at her who'd grown into a woman who didn't know what do when she attracted more than a little attention. She hung back in crowds, always had, and she was always a little reluctant to meet new people. But she wasn't weak- there was a time when she had been, and she'd never go back there. She wouldn't let Don think she was.

"Donnie," she started, though she didn't know where she was trying to go with her thoughts. She didn't know what to say- she didn't think he wanted to hear how she'd tried to do it, or even why. And she didn't know how to comfort him, despite the fact that she could see in his eyes that comfort was exactly what he needed. It amazed her that, after so many years apart, Don actually cared enough about her to be so upset by what she'd done.

Don shook his head to stop her from going on and eyed her carefully as he moved from the table to the couch, taking the seat right beside her, and very slowly wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close to him. "Just promise me one thing," he whispered harshly, waiting until he felt her head move ever so slightly up and down against his chin in the affirmative before he continued, "Promise me you'll never do anything like that again. That if you ever get to that point again, Casey, you'll come to me, and you'll talk to me."

"I promise," she whispered into his neck, even as she marveled at how much she still meant to him after so many years. He was her hero, always and forever, had been ever since she was a little girl. She knew that she would always love him, that she would always need him- what amazed her, what moved her to tears, was the sudden knowledge that he wanted her to need him. And as she clung to him, her arms wrapped so tightly around his neck she briefly wondered if she might be holding him a little too tightly before putting the thought out of her mind- he'd tell her if she was- because she knew she couldn't let him go, she just hoped he wouldn't feel the tears slipping down her cheeks and onto his shirt.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay- but I did warn you guys. Thanks for the reviews! I hope you guys like this one. -Jess

**Disclaimer: **Nope, not mine...

**Chapter Seven**

Casey wasn't sure how long they sat there in silence- not exactly an uncomfortable one, just... slightly odd, at least for them. Don hadn't ever been big on the whole just-sit-and-hold-a-girl thing- there had usually been a lecture or a minor interrogation. When she finally couldn't stand it anymore- because, really, she knew he was dying to ask her about everything that had happened in the years since they'd last seen each other- she said the first thing that popped into her head- and winced the moment the question was out of her mouth.

"What did you ever see in Devon?" Admittedly, it was something she'd wanted to know for a couple of years now, from the moment she'd peered over the banister in her mother and step-father's mansion and seen Don helping her step-sister with her coat. Of course, Don had no idea that she'd seen that- or, for that matter, that Devon even had a step-sister, at least not as far as Casey knew anyway, so she supposed she should have expected that look of complete and utter shock that crossed his face as he lifted his head off her shoulder.

"What? How do you even know about Devon?" he sputtered- it made absolutely no sense to him. Eleven years or not, he knew Casey wasn't the type of person Devon would hang out with. She was just too damned nice whereas his ex-girlfriend... well, he'd have to agree with Stella on that one- Devon was a walking stereo-type. The pretty little rich girl who was too caught up in herself and spending Daddy's money to really care about anyone or anything else. And that wasn't Casey- or they type of person Casey would ever associate with.

Or so he would have thought before he caught the blush rising on her cheeks and the way she dropped her gaze down to his chest. "She's my step-sister."

Don's jaw dropped at her admission. Almost instantly, he collected himself again and narrowed his eyes. "She said she didn't have any siblings," he muttered, wondering at how Casey had apparently been connected to his life in a couple of ways for the past two years and yet he'd missed it.

His remark earned a snort from Casey. "Devon and I don't exactly consider each other sisters, Don," she said wryly, her nose crinkling. Don chuckled lightly at the expression on her face- it was one he knew all too well from their earlier years. "I learned pretty early on that my life would be a whole lot less complicated if I just stayed out of Devon's way... so, when I saw you at the house that first night... I stayed on the landing, quiet as a mouse and just... just hoping..."

Don quirked an eyebrow, curiosity filling him. "Hoping what, pest?" She'd seen him? Heard him? And she'd still hidden- just because she hadn't wanted to upset her step-sister? Sure, Devon could be... unpleasant, to put it mildly- really mildly- when angry, but Don thought that Casey definitely could have at least said "hello" that night.

Casey ducked her head and mumbled, "Hoping that you'd look up and see me."

He let out a long, slow hiss of air. "Why didn't you come down, Casey? You could've at least said 'hi;' it wouldn't have been the end of the world."

In response, Casey shook her head slowly. "No, but... I was scared, Don. Not just of Devon, though you've got to admit- she's like the freaking Wicked Witch when she's pissed," she said, and the comment earned a slight chuckle from Don- it was, he silently agreed, a pretty good comparison. "I... It had been years, Donnie. I was afraid you wouldn't want to see me- or worse, that I'd just be some kid you used to know."

Don jerked back at that. "_Some kid I used to know_? Casey... C'mon, you have to know you're more than that. I mean..." Ah, hell- this is why he'd never had a relationship that lasted more than three weeks. He didn't do.. this. This talking about feelings and another person's importance in his life. With his friends- with Danny and Stella, Lindsay, hell, even Mac, Adam, and Sheldon- it was simply understood; it never had to be said. And any time it had ever come to this moment in a relationship... well, he'd walked- okay, so maybe it was more accurately put that he ran.

Talks like this scared him- and what scared him even more was that, for once, he wasn't looking for the nearest exit. His palms were sweating, and he could feel the beads of perspiration on his forehead, but he was still there, still sitting on Casey's couch, holding her- and wondering how in the world he was going to convince her that he actually cared. Not in the boyfriend/girlfriend manner- he'd vehemently deny it until Frosty the Snowman started looking for a condo in Hell because there was no way he could possibly have feelings like _that_ for the pest he'd grown up next door to- but he did care. He couldn't- wouldn't even bother trying to- deny that. He cared about her; he always had and he always would.

"Case," he started on a sigh, willing himself to hold onto the tiny thread of patience that was quickly slipping away- how on earth could she possibly doubt that he cared? That he had always cared? Damn it, she should know him better than that! "If you'd just been 'some kid,' I wouldn't have knocked you're old man's lights out for laying a hand on you. I wouldn't have threated Johnny Peterson to within an inch of his pathetic little life for talking shit about you at school and being just stupid enough to do it where I could hear. I wouldn't have left my window unlocked and cracked open in the middle of freaking winter just in case Sam forgot to leave hers open for you," he practically growled. Didn't she know this? Why was he having to explain it- hadn't he shown her time and time again that she was important to him?

It took Casey a moment to register everything that he'd said and, when she did, she couldn't help but blurt out, "You threatened Johnny Peterson? Why? When? Why didn't I know about it?" Johnny Peterson had been a couple of years older than her- Tommy's age. He'd always thought he was God's gift to women- it didn't help that so many girls had wanted to date him... or that so many of them actually had. He'd hit on her a couple of times- which she'd thought was terrible, since she'd been thirteen and in the seventh grade, while he'd been a sophomore in high school at the time, but she'd developed early and lots of guys, much to her dismay, had taunted and teased her about it- and, once, he'd even tried to feel her up.

Don shrugged- seriously, he said all that and the one thing she latched onto was the fact that he'd threatened Peterson? Somehow, that just figured. "What do you mean 'why'? I just told you- he was talking shit about you. Called you an ice queen because you wouldn't let him get anywhere with you- among other things. And, like I said, he was stupid enough to do it where I could here- 'course, I'd have done it anyway at that point." When she arched one eyebrow, he added, "I heard you tell Sam that he'd groped you in the hall."

"Again, how did I not know about this?" Casey demanded with a glare that made him glad looks couldn't kill.

Still, he wore a smug smirk when he calmly replied, "Because I didn't want you to- you'd have gotten pissed and gone off on one of your rants about how you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself and, quite honestly, I didn't want to hear it." He shrugged again then reached out and tugged on a lock of hair that had escaped from her pony-tail- it had been a long-standing joke for years that Casey's hair couldn't ever truly be tamed. "The point is, I did it because I cared- I _do_ care, pest. I wouldn't have damn near had a stroke when Adam told me what you'd tried to do if I didn't- I wouldn't be here now, right this minute, if I didn't. And it pisses me off to think that you ever, even for a moment, thought that I didn't." It did a hell of a lot more than piss him off, he thought- it hurt. It really and truly hurt him, but he wasn't about to admit that.

It had been a brief thought two years ago- granted, it had lasted long enough to keep her paralyzed in fear on the staircase- and Casey was surprised to find herself almost overwhelmed with guilt for it now. He'd never say it out loud- she knew him better than to think that he would- but she could see the pain her words had caused him. She'd let her insecurities get the better of her that night, and she'd been sorry for it then- and was even sorrier now. "I'm sorry," she told him, wondering how many times she'd say those words to him that evening. If they kept talking about the past- and she had no doubts that was exactly what they were going to do- she was sure she'd be saying it plenty.

Don nodded once to let her know he accepted the apology, though it still grated on his nerves- but he figured that was partially just because he felt like he'd been on a roller coaster all day, and the ride had gotten a lot bumpier with Adam's admission. It caught him by surprise when Casey suddenly started giggling. "You are such a liar, Donnie Flack." At that, his blue eyes narrowed into a glare- was she serious? Was he going to have to go through all- "You didn't 'threaten Johnny Peterson to within an inch of his pathetic little life,' and, if you did, you sure as heck didn't stop there- you beat him up. At the very least, you punched him and gave him a couple of black eyes and broke his nose."

Don smirked and rolled his eyes- she'd really had him scared there for a minute. He did not want to repeat that conversation- ever, with anyone. "He deserved it," he said with a shrug, and he knew Casey wasn't going to argue the point with him.


End file.
